Twilight
by Saffronica612
Summary: Every teenage girl has read the story of Bella Swan and Edward Cullen, but have they heard of Lark Cyclonis and Edward Cullen? Twilight, done Storm Hawks style. Set in Earth, modern day. It's exactly what it sounds like. Read it if you dare.
1. Preface

Author's Note: I'm not obsessed with Twilight. Actually, I'm pretty neutral about it. I think that the writing is lacking (I've seen a lot of Fanfiction stories that are far better written than this book), but it was also the first romance novel I read, so it has a special place in my heart.

And, you all know how much I love Storm Hawks, so I decided to play around a little—what if Bella wasn't naïve, innocent, and wholeheartedly good? What if she was replaced by a Storm Hawks character? An evil Storm Hawks character? As in, my favorite character, Cyclonis.

Thus we have this story. It's following the plotline of Twilight, same as the book, except instead of Bella, it's Lark Cyclonis.

Credit goes where it is due: to Nerd Corps for Storm Hawks, and to Stephenie Meyer for Twilight.

* * *

I've never given much thought to how I'd die, though I've had ample reason to.

When you've been raised solely by a father who is somewhat insane, experimenting with crystals and radiation, and have been told that it is your destiny to rule the world—when you're evil—I suppose it is wise to give consideration to such an eventuality. I guess I'm more of a child than either my father or I would like to admit.

My mother died in childbirth, and my father raised me completely. We lived in Phoenix, Arizona, where he had an underground base, complete with a bunker that could survive a nuclear blast. Which is a pretty good idea, considering the fact that he had been designing crystals to replicate nuclear fusion. Most scientists and respected academics thought of him as mad. I saw him for what he truly was: a genius.

No one wished to be a lab assistant for him; this was probably due to the fact that most of the "assistants" he had hired had died in…failed experiments. So I worked with him.

The radiation changed me. I began to get closer to the crystals. I began to be able to harness their power directly. My father was pleased. We worked even harder.

Unfortunately, my school was not pleased. They decided that my father was unfit to take care of me, so to try to keep me out of the hands of childcare authorities, he sent me to an old high school friend of his who lived in some small town called Forks.

I wonder if they had an adjacent village named spoons.

Funny—in my father's attempt to save me, he condemned me to death. Still, I cannot bring myself to regret the decision to leave my home. Forks opened my eyes to a lot of new things, and for once, I felt like I…belonged. Surely, it is not unusual to grieve at the ending of such a precious thing.

The hunter sneered at me as he sauntered forward to kill me.

I was evil. I was aware of that fact from my birth. I killed my mother, but my father taught me to be cold. To be unaffected. To be smart, to be strong.

I never guessed that I would be dying in the place of someone I loved. Poetic justice, I guess?

That ought to count for something, at least.

* * *

I have this story stuck in my head, so despite the flames you give me, I'll probably just write more. Sorry, but, I'm not really sorry. Don't like it, don't read it.


	2. First Sight

Author's Note: I'm surprised, I actually got some reviews. Didn't think any of you would be crazy enough to read it. Thanks, TheSaneCrazyGirl and Smileyfacer!

As always, I own nothing.

* * *

My father drove me down to the airport, silent. Neither of us were particularly happy about this self-imposed exile of mine, but it was the only choice. We had to keep the authorities off our backs.

"So, what's his name?" I asked.

Father gave a start. "Oh…Charlie Swan. Chief Charlie Swan." We both grinned. The irony of that. I was running away from the authorities, and the person who I happened to be living with was the chief of police. Ha, ha, ha.

He gave me one last long, sad look. "You don't have to go. We've been working on that Cloaking crystal—"

It would never be ready in time. I had to get out of here before he was arrested. "Father, I _want_ to go," I insisted. "There are so many raw minerals in Forks—think of all the crystals I could make. Besides, I should get a bit of change of scenery." With that closing line, I boarded my terminal.

The plane flight was uneventful. I dislike riding on planes; ever since I began to work with crystals I lost all respect for metal machines. However, I had recently perfected my use of the Levitation crystal, so I wasn't worried at all. My father had given me a whole suitcase full of the precious things, along with my own refining equipment, and, of course, I wore as many as humanely possible as jewelry.

As the huge metal lump touched down in Port Angeles, I noticed with grim satisfaction that it was raining. Good. I absolutely hated the sunshine. It was too warm, and bright, and it made me look washed out. Not that I would ever be pretty, with my pale skin, black hair, and violet eyes.

Charlie was waiting for me in his police cruiser. I had expected it, but I still felt a visceral sense of dread getting in. I reminded myself that I was a guest, not a prisoner. I was here by choice.

Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug which I didn't return. "Chief Swan," I greeted him curtly.

"Lark, it's so nice to finally see you!" he gushed.

"Cyclonis, please."

My first name was the only thing my mother had ever given me, and I hated it. It was sweet and cute. I was neither sweet nor did I wish to be. I was not weak. I preferred to go by my surname, which reminded me of the long line which I had descended from. Once, a long time ago, in medieval Europe, we had been Kings. They addressed us as Master. It was my father's dream, and now mine, to bring those old glory days back.

"So, um, how's your father?" I hoped that it was just the excitement of seeing me, because if this man was as chatty as he was being right now I swear I would run away from home.

"Doctor Cyclonis is in optimal health," I replied in monotone. Maybe he would take a hint.

He did, and shut up. Thank God.

The drive to Forks past in relative silence. I didn't mind at all. I almost preferred the silence, it gave me time to think.

When Charlie did speak again, we were nearing the house.

"So, I bought you a car."

Was he serious? A hunk of metal that I would have to call my own? I. Hate. Machines. Just a phobia that I happen to have. They're disgusting. They're so oily, and loud, and…it just gets on my nerves.

I realized I should probably look thankful. After all, that was how a normal teenage girl would react.

Remind me to rant about how much I hate normal in a few minutes, 'kay?

"Thanks, Chief Swan. Really, you shouldn't have. It is a gesture of disproportionate kindness and welcoming."

He smiled awkwardly. "I thought you'd prefer it to being driven to school in a police cruiser every morning."

I weighed my phobia for all oily, disgusting, polluting machines against my phobia for police cars specifically. He was right. "Thank you, Chief Swan. You have my sincerest gratitude."

We pulled up into his driveway, and I glanced at the offending vehicle. It was a truck (Ew. Seriously, if I was going to have to drive anything, I'd prefer it to be something small and unobtrusive, like one of those Smart Cars). What's more, it was bright red. Standing next to it, or sitting, for the one in the wheelchair's case, were to males. Both had deep, russet-brown skin and long black hair. The incapacitated man's hair was streaked with grey. I concluded that they were most probably father and son, or perhaps grandfather and grandson.

"This is Billy Black, and his son, Jacob. I bought the truck off of them," Chief Swan explained.

I glanced at them again. The boy, Jacob, seemed to be about my age. He grinned at me, and I flashed a smile back. At least he was friendly, and he looked strong. Never underestimate an ally in a potentially hostile place. "I built the engine from scratch!" he exclaimed. "You should have no trouble with it at all."

I smiled again, this time a bit more strained. I really wanted to work with my crystals a bit before the nightmare of high school tomorrow. "Chief Swan, Mr. Black, Jacob, if you would excuse me, I have to unpack." The two Blacks nodded, and made their way off, while Charlie opened up the front door to show me to my room.

It was upstairs, a fairly large room with an adjourning bathroom. The walls were a dark grey, and—"The saleslady picked out the bedspread. I hope you like purple."

Purple happened to be one of my favorite colors. What do teenagers say these days? "Purple is…cool," I replied shakily.

Thank God Charlie didn't see the need to hover. We would probably get along fine if he continued like this. I sighed, unlatching my suitcase and beginning the long, arduous process of getting all my crystals and equipment set up.

I was not looking forward to my first day of school tomorrow. This place had a grant total of 357 students, so, of course, I would be a commodity. A freak.

Not that I had ever been a people person. I was always too logical to understand their stupid whims. I mean, the need for every girl to have a boy on their arm? The desire of every boy to start making out every second of the day? I just found it all stupid. Perhaps I had too high standards. If there was every going to be a guy gracing my arm, he would have to be a genius, with an intelligence to match my own, absolutely gorgeous, strong, fast, devoted to me, and not weirded out by my crystals. Fat chance I was going to find that sort of guy in Forks.

Besides, I found high school stupid. The work I had done with my father had forced me to apply principles of science and math that I bet half the teachers in this dump hadn't heard of. I already had a PhD in physics and the higher maths. I did not see the point of going to high school besides fitting in, which was a bore.

So, with those thoughts floating around in my head, I clicked off the light and settled down in my purple comforter. No surprise that I didn't end up sleeping to well.

----------------

The next morning, the only thing evident outside of my window was thick fog. Not bad, gloomy weather for my gloomy first day of school. Great, just great.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck, and I thanked him. Otherwise, we had a silent meal. I was 'cool' with that. (I had been practicing using my teenager slang, so that I could at least give the semblance of fitting in.)

As soon as I was finished eating, I decided to leave. Might as well get this whole nightmare over with. I donned a large, purple parka, which almost resembled a cape, then put on a magenta jacket over the whole thing. I pulled the hood up. I might adore the rain, but I did not adore being wet or cold.

I got into the truck, trying not to wince or scrunch my nose as the scent of gasoline which was so evident to me. I put the keys in the ignition, and, much to my displeasure, the engine literally roared to life. Not only did I dislike the damage already being done to my sensitive ears, but there was no better way to announce my arrival to the whole world, aka high school.

Nightmare. At least inside the car, it was dry.

I had completely memorized all the maps I could find of Forks and the surrounding area. After all, it is wise to know the territory when going into a new situation. I had also briefly analyzed maps of surrounding settlements, including Jacksonville, and Port Angeles, where the airport had been. I was nearly positive that I would be able to drive back in worst came to worst.

I pulled into the school parking lot (despite my knowledge of its location, the school felt the need to advertise its presence with large signs announcing "Fork High School.") I sauntered forward into the building labeled "Front Office" (really, these people must love to overstate the obvious.) I took one last deep breath of the fresh, clean outside air before pushing open the door.

Inside was brightly lit, and warmer than I expected. The walls were painted cheery colors, the floor was a commercial grey speckled with orange, and there were plants overflowing from all corners. I took a seat on the large couch and waited to be noticed.

A red-haired woman from behind the desk looked up. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm Cyclonis," I replied. "Lark Cyclonis."

Her eyes lit up with immediate recognition. I suspect that I was a hot topic of gossip, no doubt. Chief Swan practically adopting the teenage daughter of an old high school friend, who also raised this daughter without a mother. I suppose everyone was waiting to see what sort of freak I would be.

"Of course," she said, digging through her precariously balanced stack of documents to recover my schedule and a map. I looked disinterestedly at all of my courses. I sighed. It looked like I was in for a boring school year. They had put me in Biology, Trigonometry, and I wasn't even sure if this school had honors courses, because I certainly wasn't in any. She handed me a map of the school and started explaining routes to classes, but I blocked her out. I had already memorized the blueprints of the school, along with every teacher, their bio, and their credentials. I didn't need to hear her petty explanation.

I went back to my truck and grabbed my bag, shoving my schedule and the slip I needed to get signed by all my teachers in there, too. I could feel everyone's eyes burning on my back, but I decided to ignore them. I quickly zipped up my bag, slung it across my back, and began making my way to my locker, hood casting shadows over my eyes. No need to be obviously weird from the start.

I dumped my extra books in the locker, avoiding making eye contact with anyone. It wasn't like I lacked the confidence, I just hoped that they all would take the hint that I didn't want anything to do with them. Luckily, no one bothered me on my way to my first class, Literature.

I made it to the classroom without being harassed by any of my peers, and handed the slip to the teacher, Mr. Mason. He gawked at me for a second, then sent me to an empty desk at the back of the room. I grinned mentally, at least he hadn't introduced me to the rest of the class, and surveyed the room. They were all staring at me. Most of them seemed to lack the spark of intelligence in their eyes. They all seemed to have fairly pale skin. At least I wouldn't stand out too much.

I glanced down at the reading list, to find all of the material I had already read. It wasn't mentally stimulating at all. I sighed again. This was going to be a boring year.

When the bell finally rang—and it was a nasally, loud sound that grated on my delicate ears—a gangly boy with skin problems and hair as black as an oil spill leaned across my desk to talk with me. Great, I couldn't brush him off without seeming rude, and as much as I did not care, it would be best to maintain appearances of fitting in at school.

"You're Lark Cyclonis, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club geek.

"Just Cyclonis," I corrected. Everyone within a three foot radius swiveled their head to stare at me. I guess teenagers didn't go by their last names. In the professional world, it was common, and that was one tradition I was not dropping.

"What's your next class?" he asked. Nosy, anyone?

"Government, with Jefferson, in building six," I replied, reading off the mental schedule I had assembled in my head. Government was another pointless class. Who cared about learning about our messed up system of democracy? If I had my way—which I most definitely would—the world would be mine before we were all grown up anyway. There isn't much to learn about a tyranny.

"I'm in building four, so I could show you the way…" I bristled. He was overly helpful, and that meant just one thing: he was interested in me. God, I thought I had escaped that. I guess in a small town, girls were such a precious commodity that I was actually considered attractive. And, of course, I couldn't say no without gaining the reputation of being nasty, stuck up, and aloof.

It didn't help that I was naturally nasty, stuck up, and aloof. "By the way, I'm Eric," he added.

"Thanks," I replied, trying my best to arrange my face into a grateful smile. In my opinion, I failed miserably, but this boy, this…_Eric_ seemed to buy it.

He tried to make small talk on the way. "So, is this a lot different from Phoenix?"

I swear several people were following us, hanging on our every word. Then again, I've always been paranoid.

"Not so much. High school is high school, whether it's baking hot or freezing cold."

"Hot…it doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"No, two or three times a year, if we're lucky."

"What's that like?"

Did this boy lack an imagination or something? "Sunny. And hot."

"Aren't people from Arizona supposed to be tan? You don't look very tan."

Wow, stereotype me and state the obvious, all in one sentence. "I'm not. Maybe that's why they kicked me out," I said dryly. He laughed.

"You're good."

We reached his building, which saved me from more mind-numbingly dull conversation. At least the people here understood sarcasm.

The rest of the morning passed in the same fashion. The classes were tedious and uninteresting, and various students competed to get to walk me to my next class. All of the teachers seemed uninterested in me, except for my Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner. After I corrected a mistake he made on the subject of complex numbers, he forced me to stand, introduce myself to the class, and explain exactly why I was wrong and he was right. Instead, I pointed out his flaw, citing pages from the elementary textbook he gave us. He blushed furiously and nearly gave me a detention, saying if this wasn't my first day he would not tolerate such disrespect. I practically snorted out loud.

I stood in the lunch line besides a girl who sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish. She was short, and had a crazy head full of curls. She prattled on incessantly about everything, and I concentrated on blocking her out. I smiled and nodded, and the idiot didn't realize that I hadn't listened to a single word she said.

She lead me to the table full of her friends. Again, I sighed. I would have liked to sit alone, but best to keep up the appearance of being a normal, social teenager. The boy from English, Eric the Geek, waved at me. I tried not to glare back.

It was then that I saw them.

I was scoping out the cafeteria, taking note of all the students, their "labels" (cool, geek, cheerleader, etc), and where they sat. These five sat in the corner. They weren't talking, they weren't eating—in fact, they all had a tray of untouched food in front of them. Their overall strangeness caught my eye, so I turned to stare at them.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was large, extremely muscled, and with short, buzzed brown hair. One had blond hair and an expression of disgust on his face, bordering pain. The last one was lanky, less bulky, and with untidy, bronze colored hair. He looked more boyish than the others, who almost gave the appearance of being college students.

There were two girls, too, exact opposites. One was tall and statuse, with a beautiful figure and long, golden, wavy hair. The other was short, pixie-like, thin to the extreme, and with small features. She had black hair cropped short and pointing out in all directions.

However, they all contained similar features. They were pale, pale white, paler than all the students of this sunless town, even paler than me, though not by much. They had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tone. They had purplish shadows under those eyes, and had straight, perfect, angular features. Not to mention they were all devastatingly, inhumanely beautiful.

That wasn't what caught my eye, though. What I found interesting about them is they were all staring off in random directions, looking just as bored as me.

Interesting. If they were as bored as me, there was a possibility that their intelligence could rival mine.

I turned to face my table again. "Who are they?" I asked curiously, before glancing back again.

Miss Curly-hair followed my gaze. "They're the Cullens," she whispered, as if it was some huge, juicy gossip topic, then she giggled. "Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice. They all live with Dr. Cullen and his wife."

I glanced sideways at them. If their father was a doctor, they probably had some sort of better education. Their names were strange, too, but then again, I asked to be called Cyclonis, so I wasn't going to judge them.

Okay, who was I kidding. Of course I was judging them. I had been judging them from the moment I stepped in.

Another member of my table stepped in to continue telling the tale. "They're all, like, together and all, like couples. I'm not even sure if that's legal!"

"They're foster children, so it's not disgusting or anything. None of them are really related," pointed out another teen at my table.

"Yeah, but its just…weird. They live in the same house!" Curly-hair finished.

I glanced at them one more time, then grinned in spite of myself. I had just found my mystery to keep me busy through the boring days of high school.

"So, they've always lived here, or what?" I asked. Now I was in full information-gathering mode.

"No, they moved down, like, two years ago from, like, Alaska."

Interesting. So I wasn't the only newbie here.

"Who is the bronze haired one?" Everyone here knew my name, so only fair I should start learning theirs. I peeked at him again from the corner of my eye, and he was looking at me, almost frustrated. Interesting, very interesting.

"That's Edward Cullen," the curly haired girl pouted. "Absolutely gorgeous, but don't waste your time. Apparently, none of us are good enough for him. Not that I care."

Why did they assume when I asked about a guy that I was interested in him? I will never understand the teenage psyche. If these Cullens were half as mature as I hoped, I completely understand why that Edward boy had turned down the chatterbox of a girl. I bit my lip to hide a smile.

Finally, the bell rang, and the five got up and gracefully made their way over to the door. I observed their movements like I would that of a particularly interesting science project. Speaking of science, my next class, Biology.

I made my way into the room, handing the teacher my slip to get signed and waiting to be assigned a seat. The teacher pointed me to an empty desk, and sure enough, it was next to the Edward boy. He stiffened as a approached him, and again, I had to hide a grin. Poor kid, must have been attacked by practically every girl in the school because of his looks. From the stares I had been giving him at lunchtime, it was a logical conclusion for him to jump to that I would be the same way.

However, as the class progressed, and he didn't relax, I became a bit more curious. I glanced at his face, and was surprised by the expression I found there: he was furious. Completely and utterly furious.

His eyes were coal black.

I had given him no reason to hate me, but the anger in his gaze was directed at me. Another facet of this mystery I was determined to crack. It annoyed me somewhat that he found me so repugnant, but mostly, I thought it was interesting. After all, I felt most of these sheep-like teenagers were repugnant, so I was in no place to get all offended.

The entire class, he remained stiff and rigid, until the bell rang, and he fluidly exited the room before the rest of the class realized they were dismissed. Again, I tried to hide a grin. Ironic, the one kid I wouldn't mind talking to, and he decided to avoid me like a plague.

I made my way to PE class, not particularly excited. As a scientist, I disliked unnecessary physical exertion. Also, it frustrated me to participate in activities that I had not completely mastered. I stood at the doorway of the gym, glancing in nervously, wondering what to do.

"Aren't you Lark Cyclonis?" came a male voice from behind me. I whirled to see an cute, baby-faced boy with carefully spiked hair.

"Just Cyclonis," I corrected him. Already, this was getting old.

"Did you like, stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or something? I've never seen him act like that."

My eyes flashed to this kid's face again. For a moment, I felt an inking of respect for his powers of observation, then I realized that my newness meant that everyone was overanalyzing every little move I made. I gave him a small smile, trying to keep up the sky, nice new girl act. "That was the guy I sat next to in Biology? I don't know, I never spoke to him."

Mike grinned. "Well, if I had been lucky enough to sit next to you, I would have talked to you."

Why did every teenage male on the planet only think of girls in one way, or so it seemed? I smirked. "Well, good thing you didn't. I don't need trouble from the teachers my first day for talking in class."

He blushed and, thankfully, left me alone after that.

The PE teacher gave me a uniform, which I was not required to change into today, then broke the class into volleyball teams. I got to be scorekeeper. Yippee for me.

Finally, finally, _finally_ the day was over, and I made my way back to the front office. When I pushed open the door, I almost ran into him.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me; I could tell from his tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice me, so I smirked silently and eavesdropped on his conversation. He was speaking to the receptionist, and, from what I could tell, he was trying to switch out of sixth period Biology.

So he hated me that much? This was starting to become funny. I was used to being the villain, not the victim. I hadn't exactly been a bully at my old school in Arizona, but when people annoyed me, I had always gotten revenge. It was a strange feeling, being in the role of a victim. I almost liked it; it was a welcome relief. It certainly would help my reputation, and get people to underestimate me.

I'd show them all when I ruled the world.

"Never mind, then," Cullen growled in that low, velvety voice of his. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you for your help." He turned on his heel and stormed out the door. I bit back another smile. It was funny to think that I had such an affect on him.

I stepped up to the desk, handing in my signed slip, replying to the receptionist's questions about my classes with the minimum amount of response required. Finally, I got to make my way back to my truck and home.

A complete and total nightmare. The classes were boring, the kids were average, and already I seemed to have been making enemies. Father would not be happy. Suddenly, I felt an irrational desire to be back in Arizona, back with all my crystals and no need to hide my wicked plans to rule the world. I missed it more than I would admit.

I wiped the moisture from my eyes, and started up the engine. Future queens do not cry, not matter the circumstances.


	3. Open Book

Author's Note: Before I begin, I wish to thank my reviews, and remind everyone that I own nothing. Okay, you guys can all rejoice. I'm not in a long author's note mood this morning. Oh, and smileyfacer and Helliexx are awesome!

* * *

The next day was better…and worse.

Who am I kidding? It was only worse.

It wasn't raining, which was a huge minus. However, at least there were beautiful opaque clouds covering the sky completely. That was nice. Also, I had an idea of what to expect from my new group of "friends": curly-haired Jessica, Mike from gym class, and Chess Geek Erik. There were a few more whose names and faces I had also committed to memory. Still, it was easier to drown them out.

However, overall, it was a horrible day. I was tired; I had stayed up late working with crystals, and I hadn't gotten much sleep. The stupid Trig teacher called on me in class to give him one step, and I completely explained the answer to him and gave him two different ways he could have solved the equation more efficiently. He was not happy. I could have cared less. Then, in volleyball, I managed to give a teammate a mild concussion by spiking the ball into their head. And, of course, my new mystery-science-project-help-me-get-through-the-boredom-of-everyday-life-in-high-school wasn't there.

Yep, Edward Cullen was ditching, and it made me mad.

All of last night and this morning I had been thinking of various ways to start conversations, to interrogate him without seeming to nosy, and to figure out what in the world his problem was. Now, just when life was becoming interesting, he had to not show up? Lunch was a nightmare, sitting with the group of kids that had "adopted" me. I guess on the first day, they decided to give me the benefit of the doubt, but on the second day, the bullies were going to pick on me. Well, I wasn't going to be an easy victim, but at the same time, I wanted to discourage my puppy-dog followers like that Mike boy.

A pretty blonde with a tongue that contrasted to her mild looks decided to start the taunts. "Really, _Lark_, you are so pale, are you, like, part albino or something?"

Everyone got all silent, staring at me to see how I would react. A fat lot of help my so-called new friends were giving me. You see, this is why I don't have time for friends, when I've got a world to conquer.

I decided to give her the genetics lecture. "Albinism is a recessive phenotype, so technically, it's impossible to be 'part albino' while exhibiting the symptoms for it. Even if my genotype were heterozygous, I would still exhibit the dominant trait of not being an albino. It's a gene that's dominant, not co-dominant. Just a simple matter of my DNA."

As I began my speech, I noticed a peculiar thing. Alice—the pixie-like Cullen—turned to stare at me, too, almost as if she could here what I was saying. Then, she nudged Jasper. By the time I was done talking, they were all staring at me, giggling quietly.

"Whatever you say, Professor Cyclonis," blonde bully shot back. Lauren—that was her name.

"Doctor Cyclonis," I replied absentmindedly, still staring at the Cullens. Jasper gave a little start at my reply, definitely like he heard me, then the muscular one, Emmett, punched him in the shoulder. "I've got two PhD's, but I'm not currently on the payroll of a university."

"Are you serious?" This was one of the nicer, more mature kids of the group, Angela.

"Yeah, I'll show you the certificate if you don't believe me. Or the thesis I had to write about discrete mathematics. That was fun." Just my father and I, the entire summer, working on our huge papers of this complex math. It really was my idea of fun.

Now everyone at the table was looking at me with awe, and the Cullens just looked amused. Strange.

The bell rang, saving me from further ponderings, so I rushed of to Biology, my next class. To say that I knew more than the teacher would be a gross understatement, so I prepared myself for boredom.

I got the desk to myself, which suited me just fine—it allowed me to spread out, write out all my notes…it was really nice, actually. Only, I couldn't help but have this nagging feeling that Mr. Cullen was playing hooky because of me. A ridiculous, illogical, and egotistical notion, and the only one out of those three adjectives that bothered me was illogical. I have plans for world domination. Duh I'm a psycho-maniac narcissist. I can fly, manipulate energy and matter, and pretty much do whatever with my crystals. It's completely ridiculous. However, I'm a scientist (albeit of the 'mad' kind), raised by a scientist, and I don't jump to illogical conclusions. Statistically speaking, it was far more likely that Edward was absent because of family problems/didn't do a book report which was due today/got sick/got hurt—there were a thousand reasons that did not involve me, and I can scientifically prove to you that the universe, hell, not even the galaxy, revolves around me.

Gym, the final class, passed quickly—after I hit the poor innocent on the head, I managed to talk my way out of playing, and got to be scorekeeper again. Really, teachers are so easy to manipulate.

On the way out, I got another glance at the Cullen four. They were getting into their shiny new Volvo. All of them were wearing designer clothes.

Why did they sit alone in the cafeteria? I knew from experience that teenagers were like sheep—they all wanted to fit in, to be a part of the herd. These kids had the money and the looks, and with those two going for you it didn't matter what type of personality you had.

I could think of two explanations: they had a maturity level and intelligence to rival my own, or they had something to hide.

Somehow, I believed it was a little bit of both.

At 'home' (my true home was in an underground lab just south of Phoenix, Arizona, but you get what I mean), I discovered that Chief Swan did not cook. How? I opened the refrigerator and saw only Cup of Noodles ©. Ew.

I made myself a pot of tea and decided to confront him about it. No way was I being his personal cook. I had far better things to do with my time. Maybe I could construct a crystal which could prepare food…now that would be a mentally stimulating endeavor.

Speaking of my crystals, I checked the Message Crystal, a special stone my father and I created to keep in contact. Crystal technology was a lot harder to bug than phone lines and Internet.

_Lark,_

My father had written. I instantly knew something was off. Only the social workers and the teachers ever called me Lark, and that was before I requested for my surname—my _true_ name—to be used. So this was his subtle way of telling me that they were reading whatever I wrote back.

_Lark,_

_ Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was! Is it raining? I've missed you already. Guess what—the University of Florida has offered me a job, which I've accepted. In a couple of months, when I've settled in, maybe you can join me, and take some courses at the college. Miss you!_

_ --Dad_

They were obviously tracking it. He never was 'Dad' to me, only 'Dr. Cyclonis' or rarely 'Father.'

I quickly scrawled back into the crystal:

_Dearest Daddy,_

I giggled. He would get a kick out of that.

_Everything is great. Of course it's raining. Statistically speaking, there are far fewer sunny days here than rain—but now is not the time to throw numbers at you._

_ School isn't bad, just a little repetitive. I found some nice kids to sit next to at lunch._

_ Florida sounds great! Really, I would love to be back in college. As wonderful as the social aspect of high school is, I find it slightly difficult to learn new things when I have higher degrees than all of my teachers._

_ Love you!_

_ Lark_

Yes, nothing to suspicious, the social workers shouldn't have to worry too much.

I tinkered with my other crystals for a while, working on one that could create force fields, both impenetrable and immutable. When I had accomplished that, I tried combining it with the Levitation crystal to make telepathically mobile force fields. I would have probably just kept working through the night if I hadn't heard the police cruiser pulling up.

Reacting purely out of habit, I whipped out a Levitation crystal, directing the power at my workspace. Ribbons of bright, colorful energy shot out of my crystal and swept across my desk, clearing it. In three seconds, all evidence that I had been playing mad scientist was completely hidden.

Downstairs, I heard the Chief Swan entering, hanging up his coat and gun, and practically stomping into the kitchen. I heard the refrigerator door open, slam closed, then open again. I stifled a smile.

"Hey, Cy, you want some dinner?"

I had a nickname already? "No, but we have to talk about the contents of the pantry. This house should have fresh, organic fruits and vegetables at all times."

I heard the refrigerator door slam closed again. "Yeah, I agree with you on that one. I'll get some tomorrow. Come down and eat with me?"

"I've got work to do."

"You're not anorexic or something, are you?" Worry had crept into his voice.

"No," I laughed. "The high levels of artificial things I do not even want to think about in Cup of Noodles © makes me barf."

He didn't push it. Good.

That night I actually got some sleep, and slowly, unbearably slowly, but surely, the week past. I got used to the classes. I memorized every student, their biography, and their personality type. People learned not to mess with me and fear my sarcasm, but still, the puppy-group as I now call them sat with me every day at lunch.

Edward Cullen also never showed up.

I'm getting slightly worried—I don't want to become obsessed with this boy, just because he's mysterious. Something about him, and all the Cullens, is weird, and I find myself strangely fascinated by them. I don't want to end up giving the wrong impression just because he's a new mystery to dissect for me. He hasn't even spoken to me yet.

The weekend, too, passed without incident. Charlie worked out most of the weekend, so I had the entire place to myself to experiment with crystals.

Monday, back from the wonders of cutting edge science to the monotony of high school, it was no surprise that my mood was a bit down. There was a pop quiz, which I could have aced even without having read the book in question (English class), then as I walked outside, the air was filled with swirling bits of white.

Snow.

I raised my hand to catch a piece, and discovered it was only dirty, slushy rain. Ew.

Suddenly, I felt something, some instinct, and I ducked. Above my head soared a snowball, hitting Mike, who decided to be my escort, full on in the face. Thank goodness for lucky reflexes. Mike turned to extract his revenge, and I hurried to get back inside before I got unlucky.

Everyone was talking about the snow all morning. I mean, sure, it was drier than rain, until it melted in your socks. Rain made everything so clean, but when the snow started melting, everything just got slushy and dirty. I followed Jessica-talks-a-lot into the cafeteria.

Again, the hairs on the back of my neck were rising, and my weird sense was tingling. I turned to the Cullens' usual table, only to see five people sitting there.

Edward was back. Well, he sure was going to get it in Biology. I really needed something better to do than re-learn the stages of mitosis, and I was in a bad mood. Poor Edward got to be my scapegoat. I grinned at the prospect.

For the rest of the hour, I kept my eyes firmly fixed on my table, as to not scare the boy away. I was relishing my Biology fun, there was no way that I was going to give it up.

As lunch progressed, the soft patter of snow on the rooftop turned into a slightly louder, more rhythmic sound—liquid rain. It was slightly surprising to me when all my 'friends' (and I use the term in its loosest definition) moaned and groaned when they saw the washed away ice. Didn't they hear it? Not bothering to wait around for them, I hurried off to building four.

I got in early, so I began to sketch the matrix of the food-preparation crystal I was working on. It would have to be highly complex, with different sequences for different foods. It would need to store information on preparation temperature, time, sauces, how it should be cut—it was immensely complex, like a super-powered robot computer.

The scraping of a chair across the floor interrupted my thoughts of how the structure of a Levitation Crystal mixed with a Firebolt would work.

"Hello," said a quiet, musical voice. It sounded soft and deep, like velvet.

I glanced up, allowing a smirk to flirt across my face before composing my features. So the great Edward Cullen was not above talking to me. He looked handsome (understatement much?) but there was something about his face that made me think it was just as carefully composed as mine. I was playing with an expert here. Inside, I grinned. This would be a challenge.

"My name is Edward Cullen," he continued. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. Do you prefer Cyclonis, or Dr. Cyclonis?"

Fascinating. He could be perfectly polite when he wanted to. In addition, his siblings must have overhead my albino lecture, because somehow he knew about my PhDs. Going on a whim, I replied, "So do you read minds, are you a stalker, or was it just a random guess?"

He laughed softly, his eyebrows furrowing together. "What do you mean?"

I smiled right back at him. He was not going to distract me with his looks. "My name. Everyone here has tried to call me Lark. You're the only one who mentioned 'Cyclonis,' and what's more, I told five people here about my PhDs, and you were not even in school. So care to explain?"

He just sort of stuttered.

"I thought so. I go by Cyclonis, or if I really like you, Cy." Great. Chief Swan was rubbing off on my. _Cy._ Seriously, what was I thinking?

At that time, Mr. Banner started class, saving me from an awkward moment. We were doing a lab, documenting the stages of mitosis. Boring to the extreme.

"Ladies first, partner?" he asked sweetly, smiling a crooked grin. I stared at him, trying to discern what he was thinking. "Or I could go, if you wish." The smile faded, and I realized I had been looking just a little _too_ long.

I grabbed the microscope and glanced at its contents. Really, I have manipulated DNA and helped my father with his (illegal) cloning experiments. A mitosis lab was not difficult for me. "Prophase."

"Mind if I check?" he asked. His hand caught mine, to stop me from pulling the slide out of the case, and I was shocked. His fingers were freezing.

Instantly, my mind leapt to conclusions. He must have been one of those idiots who made snowballs without gloves. I had thought better of him, but even the best of us can be wrong sometimes.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately, then grabbing the microscope. After a glance, just as short as mine, he announced, "Prophase."

"Like I said."

He grinned, then switched the slides, glancing again. "Anaphase."

"May I?" I asked, grinning. Underneath my expression, I was thinking, _You see? You don't have to grab._

He smirked and pushed the microscope towards me. I glanced inside, and he was right.

We were finished before anyone else was even close, so I got to move to the top of my Biology agenda list—dissecting him (not literally, at least, not yet). Next subject…I decided I would start with his eyes.

"So, plastic surgery or contacts?"

"Huh? What do you mean? Neither."

"Then your eyes just change color with your mood swings."

He paused for a second. "No, it's the lighting."

I smirked again, letting him know that I wasn't buying it. "Okay, I'll let that one drop. Are you going to tell me—"

"Miss Cyclonis."

I glanced up to see the teacher staring down at us. "Dr. Cyclonis," I muttered under my breath. I could see Edward grin out of the corner of my eye, again, like he could hear me.

"We usually don't talk until we're done."

I gave the teacher a winning smile, then retorted, "So it would be logical to assume I am done, because I have never done anything in this class besides do all my work neatly and correctly."

He glanced at the paper. "Edward, did you let her do anything?"

"She correctly identified three out of the five."

I glared at both of them. "_She_ can speak for herself."

Mr. Banner glanced at me, unsure how to react, then just continued like he was following some script in his head. "So, have you done this lab before?"

"_Mister_ Banner," I replied, enunciating his title, "I have taken more college courses than—well, let's just say that I've majored in cellular bioengineering. Several times. I do not find the simple task of labeling the cycles of mitosis to be anything but mind-numbingly dull."

He sort of gaped at me for a minute, then walked off to check the next pair's answers. I heard weird gasping sounds from behind me and turned, slightly worried that my seat partner was choking.

He was laughing.

Well, I'm glad someone around here appreciated my wit.

We sat in silence for a few moments. I stared off at the window, gazing at the patterns caused by the falling rain.

"Too bad about the snow."

I looked up, startled, to see that he was talking to me again. "For future reference, Cullen, small talk about the weather is directly equivalent to lame. But I'll answer this time: no, not really."

"You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question.

"Temperature, I don't mind. With rain, everything is so clean and beautiful. With snow, everything just gets slushy and dirty. I don't mind the snow, I just hate slush."

"So, um, why did you come to Forks?"

I stared at him, trying to penetrate his eyes with my gaze. How did he do this? I came with the unshakeable intention to interrogate him, and here he was asking me all the questions.

"It's complicated," I brushed him off.

"I think I can keep up," he replied, trying and partially succeeding to mesmerize me with those butterscotch eyes of his.

"My dad's a scientist, and because he works all the time, he didn't have the time to properly care for me. I was more of a lab assistant than a daughter." There. I said it. Leave me alone already.

"That doesn't sound too complex. You were unhappy with him, so you moved out to Forks."

"I loved being with him, but Social Services was closing in, and if I didn't get out there would be a chance he would be arrested for certain…experiments." He raised an eyebrow. "It's not what you'd think. Nothing scandalous. I've just been exposed to abnormal levels of radiation, and, of course, I was skipping a lot of high school to have more time to experiment. Social Services didn't like that."

"So they sent you here?"

I raised my chin. Assume much? "I sent myself here. I didn't want him to get in trouble over my account."

"But now you're unhappy." Again, it wasn't a question.

I decided to give my sarcasm another go at him. "You see, I'm naturally sort of a pessimist, so it's no worse than usual."

He didn't buy it. His deep golden eyes stared into mine. "I think you're hurting more than you're letting it show. And I don't think it's fair, for you to have to come to Forks."

I rolled my eyes. "Do I look like I care what you think? And Edward, didn't you get the memo—life isn't fair."

He nodded. "You're right, life never has been fair. But that doesn't mean you personally need to suffer."

I glared at him. "What is your problem?"

"That's a very good question," he replied, almost under his breath, before staring silently off into space. I sighed, loudly. I was getting nowhere with this kid.

"Am I annoying you?" I guess I startled him from his ponderings with my sigh, because now he was looking at me again, a note of worry etched onto his face.

"Not exactly," I replied without thinking. "I'm more annoyed at myself. I came in here with the full intention of interrogating you, but you've been the one asking all of the questions." As soon as the words were out, I mentally cursed, but I couldn't take them back. "I need to work on my poker face. I'm too easy to read."

"On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." From the way he was smiling slightly, but his brow creased, I could tell his frustration wasn't being faked.

"So you're a good reader, then?"

"Usually." He smiled widely, flashing a set of perfect, white teeth.

Then, of course, Mr. Banner called the class to order, just when our discussion was getting interesting. I spent the next half hour pretending to pay attention and sketching my crystal matrix; however, when Edward started looking at the drawing like he could actually tell it was something of significance, not just a doodle, I covered it up.

As soon as the bell rang, Edward was out the door, leaving me standing a bit awestruck. Of course, this was a stupid idea, as Mike managed to catch up with me. "Lucky you got Cullen as a partner," he whined. "That lab was impossible!"

I did not want to deal with his fawning right now. "Actually, I was the microscope hog in our group. Although if you're referring to the fact that he's eye candy, may I remind you of your gender?"

He backed up, looking stung. I mentally berated myself—we were supposed to be friends—and continued, "Kidding. My father was a scientist, so I've been playing with cells and their DNA since before preschool. Of course I found the lab easy."

He relaxed a bit, chattering mindlessly on arbitrary topics as we made our way to our next class.

Finally, the day ended. The rain was just a mist by the time I got out to the parking lot, and for once, I appreciated the warmth and shelter of my truck. That is, until I turned the engine on to start the heater, and decided I would go deaf if I didn't get a new car soon.

I glanced around, making sure the coast was clear, and strangely enough, I saw a familiar figure staring at me. Shaking my head, I mouthed 'stalker,' then pulled out of the parking lot. I wasn't sure, but it looked like he was shaking with laughter in my rearview window.


	4. Phenomenon

Author's Note: Thanks to starfirix, my lone reviewer. As always, I own nothing—credit to Nerd Corps and Ms. Meyers.

* * *

When I opened my eyes the next morning, something was different. It was the lighting—sharper, clearer.

Snow and ice.

One glance out of my window confirmed my suspicious: a fine layer of snow dusted the yard, the top of my truck, and the road. All the rain from yesterday had frozen solid, making the trees look beautiful with their abstract frozen pine-needle art, but the roads slick and deadly with ice. Still, better ice than slush.

Chief Swan had already left for work by the time I got downstairs, so I made myself a bowl of cereal with soy milk (because you _know_ how much better that tastes). Actually, today was the first day I was truly anticipating going to school, and I knew exactly why.

Edward Cullen.

He fascinated me, and as much as I knew I shouldn't be drawn to him, I found that I liked him a lot. He was smart, there was no doubt about it, and I felt like he actually understood me. I felt like he knew the boredom of being stuck in high school, and he was just as fed up as me.

I mean, he was quite gorgeous, but that wasn't what held my attention about him. He was so mysterious—I _knew_ he had something he was hiding, and I knew I wasn't going to leave him alone until I figured it out.

'Curiosity killed the cat,' the snide voice in the back of my head reminded me.

'Shut up,' I told it.

Driving to school, I was very careful on the road, but my thoughts began to wander again, this time to the boys' reactions of me. In Phoenix, the boys either ignored me or actively avoided me (well, I did have a reputation for verbally degrading anyone who talked to me). Was it just because I was a novelty here, or that I wasn't afraid to speak my mind? (I couldn't speak my whole mind, as it would only end up confusing them, but that's not the point.) Still, Mike's puppy dog behavior despite all my attempts to halt his advances combined with Eric's obvious rivalry…well, let's just say I preferred being ignored.

I got to school early, which wasn't surprising, considering I left the house early, without any trouble on the roads. As I stepped out of my truck, I noticed why: thin chains, like crisscrossing diamonds, covered my tires. Chief Swan had gotten up early to put snow chains on my truck. My throat tightened a bit at his unspoken show of care. Sure, he wasn't father, but he was a decent man.

It was there, examining the snow chains and fighting the curious waves of emotion, when I heard the sound—a high pitched screech, quickly becomingly painfully loud.

I noticed several things simultaneously: first, a dark blue van skidding across the parking lot, heading straight towards me, second, a sea of people, all oblivious, and third, Edward Cullen's face, a mask of horror. It took me half a second to calculate the trajectory of the van based of its current velocity, the skid factor of the ice-covered ground, and the angle it had been speeding in. It was going to squash me.

Without thinking, I whipped out a crystal, the Shielding Crystal, and prepared to create a force field around myself to protect me. However, I heard a shattering crunch and I was hit, hard, moments before my calculations predicted the van should impact, and in the wrong direction. My head nearly slammed into the ground, but the crystal's protection kept it safe. The van, however, was still spinning and sliding, its momentum bringing it closer and closer to me.

I heard a low oath, then a pale white hand shot out protectively in front of me, denting the metal and stopping the vehicle.

I realized I was still clutching my crystal and very, very carefully put it back in my pocket. Then, I turned to face my rescuer.

Edward Cullen. What a surprise. Note the sarcasm.

Then the screaming began, as everyone around realized that I had almost been crushed. Great. So now they care.

"Cy?" My eyes snapped back to his, his low, frantic voice in my ear. "Cy? Are you all right?"

I took a deep, shuddering breath. Now that my adrenaline rush was gone, my deep-seated phobia of machines was back, and I felt nauseous. "Yeah," I said shakily.

"Be careful," he continued. "I think you hit your head pretty hard."

"No," I protested. "The crystal—"

I broke off. I did not need to blurt out all of my secrets to a stranger, and he hadn't even saved my life. I would have been fine if he didn't come.

He glanced at the hand where I had held the crystal. "Yes, the crystal, what were you going to do? Stop the car with it? Although, I have to say, it's not too crazy of a notion, considering the fact it shielded you from hitting your head."

I glared at him, regaining my cool composure. "Look, Edward, you're impossibly fast and strong, I have magical crystal powers, neither of us wants to be taken to a mental hospital. So for appearance's sake, you were standing right next to me and yanked me out of the way. However, you and I are going to have a _talk_, as soon as the sheep have stopped freaking out."

He turn his eyes on full, so they were smoldering with trustworthiness. "I can see we will get along quite well. As for the sheep, they seemed to have called 911, so our talk will have to wait a while." He seemed smug about that.

I shrugged. I could be patient. "So, since I get the feeling that you're a lot more accomplished at acting here, do I freak out and cling to you and get all teary, or do I remain cold and sarcastic?"

Edward stared at me for a second, his lips twitching upward into a smile. "I think cold and sarcastic fits you better…if you get all clingy, they'll worry that you seriously hit your head." I giggled, a high, near hysterical sound. Maybe I was a bit more shook up about this than I wanted to admit.

It took six EMTs and two teachers to move the vans away enough to get the stretchers in. Of course, everyone wanted to know what happened. It was all, "Cyclonis, are you okay? Did you get hurt? What happened?"

"Follow my lead," I whispered under my breath, so softly that I couldn't even hear it. Somehow, though, I got the visceral feeling that Edward could.

One of the paramedics looked at me. "Lark, right?" Gosh, is everyone in this town determined to call me by that name? "Now, I need you to tell me exactly what happened. What you were doing, why Edward is next to you, how you are safe…"

Sheesh, nosy! I bet this guy read too many detective novels in his free time. However, everyone was looking at me, just waiting for my answer. "I was getting out of my truck and looking at my tires, then a van almost smushed me, but Edward ran across the parking lot with inhuman speed and pushed it away with his bare hands." I rolled my eyes, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I felt Edward tense up beside me, but I just plowed on. "Look—it doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened. I was standing there, Edward was helping me out of my car, the van skidded towards us, Edward pulled me out of the way. Did you really have to go through all the trouble of asking me something you could have figured out for yourself? Or did you want to test if I had a concussion?"

The surrounding kids laughed, but the paramedic's face drained of its color. I don't suppose he was used to his patients talking back to him so nastily.

"Mr. Warner," Edward said kindly. I stared at him. "My father works at the hospital, so I happen to know the staff," he quickly explained.

The paramedic looked relieved at the fact that (a), Edward was someone he knew, and (b), Edward was using a nice tone. "You okay, kid?"

"We're fine," Edward reassured him. "Although, I want my father to take a look at Cyclonis at the hospital. I'm not sure if she hit her head or not."

I glared at him, then hissed inaudibly, "That was not part of the deal."

He smiled again, and whispered back, "Deal with it," just low enough for me to hear.

Then, of course, Chief Swan arrived at the scene, making even more of a ruckus. I realized I was going to miss all my classes (hey, what am I complaining about?), and I would probably be in the spotlight for gossip for the next couple weeks. Great.

Well, the first thing I should be worried about was getting severely chewed out by my legal guardian. Seriously, I wondered if I was going to be grounded. I smiled at the prospect—not having to worry about faking girls' nights out, just staying home all the time to work on my crystals…

"Cy? Are you okay?"

"I'm completely fine, Chief Swan," I replied. "There is nothing wrong with me." I flashed him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. He didn't look very reassured, so he quickly turned to one of the paramedics and began questioning them.

Let me tell you, the ride to the hospital was not enjoyable. First of all, with Edward, Chief Swan, the six paramedics, and me all crammed inside the back of the tiny ambulance, it was cramped. I felt claustrophobia coming on. Then, of course, it didn't help that this whole event had renewed my fear of machines—_and I was in one right now!_ Then, there was the mystery of Edward Cullen, which was seriously starting to grate on my nerves.

I glanced at him, and he was staring at me, almost protectively. As much as I wanted to confront him, it would have to wait until we were alone.

In the hospital, I was greeted by the fresh scent of sterile floors. It reminded me of a laboratory. I breathed it in as they wheeled me, and the truck driver, into the ER. Edward hurried off to get his father, I believe.

It actually wasn't that bad. When it became obvious that I wasn't hurt at all, the attention shifted to Tyler—crazy van driver (even though it wasn't his fault)—and I just got to sit down and relax, and, of course, think about Edward.

No, I don't mean some crazy fantasy that involved how gorgeous he was. There was no way he should have been that fast or strong, and I needed a scientific explanation.

Most probably, his DNA had been altered, like mine. However, with such a wide-scale mutation, it was probably something directly in his bloodstream—perhaps a rare disease, a radioactive venom.

Look at me, searching comic books for ideas. _Radioactive venom_. Really, it was ridiculous.

Briefly, I wondered if there was some sort of crystal that would make me sick, like a kryptonite sort of thing, then I laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation. Yes, I was definitely going into post-traumatic shock.

"Lark—"

"Cyclonis," I replied automatically, even though by now I realized how hopeless it was.

"—I am so sorry. I just skidded out of control. I thought I was going to kill you—I'm so sorry, I just hit the ice wrong, I am so so sorry—"

"Yeah, you know what, Tyler, I totally blame you," I replied dryly, rolling my eyes. "Seriously, you should have controlled the weather and made there be no ice today. It is all your fault that there was a patch of ice you had no way of seeing in the parking lot. I'm never going to forgive you."

He went silent for a minute. Then:

"That _was_ sarcasm, right?"

I stifled another groan. "Yes, that was sarcasm, but if you keep trying to apologize to me, I might have to do something drastic. No harm, no foul. Although I'm sorry about your truck. I suppose I kind of owe you for mine ruining it."

He sort of laughed, and then shut up, thank god. Then, of course, the obvious question: "How did you get out of the way so fast?"

"Cullen kid pulled me out of the way. Does he play football or something, because he's pretty strong." Tyler gave me a confused glance. "Edward Cullen. He was standing right next to me, and he yanked me out of the way, then you van hit the back of my truck. I was completely safe the entire time. I can actually graph the trajectory, if you want me to, show you exactly what happened from a scientific standpoint—"

"No thanks," he grinned. Lying is quite easy, if you know how to do it properly. Rule one, be confident. Rule two, don't seem afraid to show them evidence. Actually offer it. Rule three, somehow involve complex math that they do not want to think about. Works every time. I've been in many situations where my father has explained the scientific aspects of illegal experiments to the authorities using such terminology that they didn't realize what was going on right under their noses. After seventeen years of that, one begins to pick it up.

"So, you and Cullen?"

"Yes, Cullen and I. We have a Biology project, and he was trying to convince me that I didn't have to write an extra ten pages on the research paper part."

Tyler groaned. "Damm, I forgot about that."

He seemed distracted enough, at least so that he stopped the stream of remorseful apologies, until they wheeled him away. Thankful for the lack of noise, I closed my eyes.

"Is she sleeping?" A musical voice asked. My eyes flew open.

"Not anymore," I groaned, trying to sound a bit belligerent. He grinned charmingly at me, a crooked little smile, and I failed miserably.

"So are you getting me out of here? Because seriously, hospital beds are not comfortable, and if I'm going to sleep, I might as well in my own room. And by the way, how come you're not being fussed over like the rest of us?"

"It's all in who you know," he answered. "And don't worry, I've come to spring you."

A doctor walked around the corner, young, blonde, and handsome. I came to the logical conclusion that this was the mysterious Dr. Cullen.

"Miss—or should I say Dr.—Cyclonis, how are you feeling?" he asked kindly.

"Fine." I tried as hard as possible to keep the exasperation out of my voice. "The van didn't even touch me."

He smiled, and asked for no explanation. I instantly knew that whatever Edward did, this man was in on the loop.

"So am I back off to school?" I really should have thought of this beforehand, spread a story that I had hit my head or something, so I could stay home.

"You should probably take it easy today, stay at home, rest. Notify me immediately if you have any dizziness, or trouble with eyesight. Otherwise, you should be fine." I nodded thankfully. The doctor turned towards Tyler, walking over to him. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay a bit longer," he began.

I glanced at Edward. No one was around. This was my chance. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" I hissed.

"Your father is waiting for you," he replied through clenched teeth.

"My _father_ is in Phoenix, Arizona—actually, he's probably on his way to Florida right now. You can either speak with me alone, or I can _force_ you."

He chuckled, as if he found the idea of me forcing him to do anything funny, then strode out of the room into a deserted hallway. I hurried to catch up.

"What do you want?" he asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes were cold.

"You owe me an explanation."

His eyes narrowed. "I saved you life. I don't owe you anything."

That was the last straw. My temper snapped. "You saved nothing! I would have been fine without you! I'm not some damsel in distress, Edward. I can take care of myself!"

"What were you going to do—throw a rock at the car?"

That was it. I knew it was irrational to lose my temper like this, but I was so angry. I knew that the purpose of this was for me to discover about him, not the opposite way around, but I was furious. I whipped out the crystal, and made a force field around myself, then expanded it so rapidly it threw him off his feet into the wall. There was a sickening crash, although it looked like the wall was hurt more than my classmate.

"Yes, Edward, I would have thrown a rock at the car," I leered at his fallen. Then, suddenly, he was standing, almost faster than my eyes could follow. He rushed at me, but I was prepared for his inhuman speed, and created a force field between us. He hit it so hard it sounded like thunder. I was going to need an explanation fast, because people would be coming to see what all the ruckus was.

"Just satisfy my curiosity, will you?" I groaned. "Then I'll leave you alone, and we can both forget this ever happened."

"You want an explanation?"

I nodded.

"Well then, I hope you enjoy disappointment."

I could only sputter in anger and indignation as he _walked away_ from me. No one walked away from me! It took a few minutes for me to regain control over my limbs and actually move, so I headed towards the waiting room.

There, surprise, surprise, the whole school (a bit of an exaggeration, but not much) was waiting for me. Mike, Jessica, Eric, Angela—all of my 'friends' had come to see if I was alright.

I was touched by their care, before I realized that they were all only here because it got them out of school. Then, I lost my respect for them.

Obviously, they bombarded me with questions.

"Are you okay?"

"What happened?"

"Did you get hit by that truck?"

"Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," I said loudly, silencing them. "I'm completely uninjured. Edward Cullen was standing next to me, and he pulled me out of the way. Nothing happened besides Tyler's van getting ruined."

Of course, this brought on a whole new round of questions.

"OhMyGod! Tell me all about it!" The excited squeal was from Jessica. She just loved gossip, and right now, it seemed like I was a hot topic.

"That was really nice of him." Angela, one of the more sane people in Fork High.

"What was Cullen doing next to your car?" It was Mike. He actually seemed jealous.

"We have a Biology project we're working on!" I groaned.

Finally—and it seemed to take me hours—I convinced all of them that I was in perfect health, and that Edward Cullen and I were not dating. When at long last, they filed out to go back to school, I turned to the person who was sitting silently in the corner: Chief Swan, my ride home. He actually looked apologetic.

I knew why in a second. "You told Father, didn't you?"

His eyes shifted. "Guilty as charged."

Great, just great. The one person in the world that could actually intimidate me, and we were going to have a _chat_. Now I wasn't as much looking forward to our ride home.

I decided to staunch his worried with a letter.

_Father,_

_Perhaps you have heard of my near-accident at school today. A classmate and I were standing near the back of my truck, and another van skidded on the ice. The trajectory would have led it to crash where we were standing, had this classmate not pulled me out of the way. I had my crystals ready, but I was never forced to use them. My life was never in any danger._

_I appreciate your concern for my welfare, but truly, everyone has been making this entire situation a far bigger deal than it truly was. It would be best for both of us if you did not waste time unnecessarily worrying about me. Thank you._

_ Respectfully, Your Daughter,_

_ Cyclonis_

I scanned over the letter. It seemed about right, nothing to blatantly obvious, the story the same as that which I'd told everyone else. He shouldn't question too deeply, I hoped.

I made the Message Crystal send, then realized how emotionally and physically worn out I was. Using crystals sapped my energy pretty quickly, and I was ready to crash. Not even bothering changing into my pajamas, I slumped down onto my bed. Unconsciousness quickly claimed me.


	5. Invitations

Author's Note: I would like to thank smileyfacer and starfirix. Reviewers are so awesome, hint, hint, so maybe you other lazy people who are reading this even if you don't want to admit it could review!

Credit to where it is due—Stephenie Meyers and Nerd Corps. Not me. Not that I particularly mind or anything.

* * *

That night was the first night I dreamed of Edward Cullen.

It was seriously creepy. I woke up sweating, like I was having a nightmare, and he was right there on the other side of my bedroom. Yet when I clicked on the light, he was gone, as if it was just my imagination.

I don't imagine things, even after having fake head trauma. I spent the rest of the night trapping my room with crystals and alarms. By the time I was convinced it was completely safe, and had devised a system of turning them off, it was morning.

I briefly pondered how much my teachers would enjoy me sleeping in class, but decided against it. I would just have to go to bed early tonight. However, that meant…

Coffee. Three giant cups of it, with caffeine sugar stirred in. Ew.

Don't get me wrong, coffee is a fine drink, but I'm more of a tea person. It's like I've never gotten drunk at a high school party before, because beer tastes like pig piss. _I_ drink champagne.

However, the day did pass without me fainting from lack of sleep (like I needed that, especially after all the gossip my accident caused). If Edward visited me the following nights, then he wasn't human, because my room was more alarm-filled than a high security bank vault. The entire next month was uneasy, boring at some points and just awkward at others, and tension-filled.

For one, Tyler had decided to one-up Mike in puppy dog imitations, and followed me around everywhere, determined to 'make it up to me' somehow. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't convince him that what I wanted was for him to silence himself, leave me alone, and pretend it all never happened. On the contrary, he walked me between classes, offered to carry my books all the time, and joined me at my now-crowded lunch table. It was slightly funny to see Eric and Mike treat him like absolute dirt, but not enough to make it worth it. He obviously saw me as some sort of romantic interest, too.

Seriously, I preferred it when everyone hated me back in Phoenix!

Everyone left Edward alone, which got me fairly irate. He had been in just as much danger, if not more, than me—I had a crystal—but no one surrounded him, worried about his welfare. Then, of course, Edward, and all the Cullens, really, started to completely ignore me.

I didn't mind much. Edward might have been eye candy, and he might be an interesting mystery to solve, but I had given away some of _my_ secrets, which was completely unacceptable. Best to keep my distance for now. There was no way I was getting obsessed over some boy when I had much more interesting things, exempli gratia crystals and world domination, to be obsessed with.

Besides, I had far bigger problems that my lab partner's mood swings. When I saw it on the school calendar, I just brushed it off, but apparently, it was a bigger deal in these small towns.

A school dance.

Also known as a complete and utter nightmare. I didn't care if they bribed me with all the crystals in the world, I still wouldn't go.

Jessica (whom I still thought of as the overtly loquacious curly-haired girl) was the one who brought it up to me. She asked me permission to ask Mike to the girls' choice spring dance that weekend. The conversation went something like this.

"Hi, Cyclonis!"

"Good morning." _I don't know why we say that. I haven't been having a particularly good morning, but I am still either forced to use it as a greeting or use some sort of slang expression._

"So, um, have you, like, heard of the girls' choice dance in a couple weeks?"

"Of course." _Oh, God. Where is this going? Seriously, I have enough problems with all the guys around here interested in me._

"Have you asked Mike yet?"

"No." _Checking to see if I'm free…or checking to see if Mike's free. You better like Mike, Jessica, or I'll be forced to plan very nasty revenge. Hm, maybe I could plan some revenge anyway. I need something to perk up my mood—_

"Oh! Were you planning on it, because if you're not, I still kind of need a date, and I was going to ask him—"

_Thank goodness. Although it's too bad about my revenge._ "No, Jessica, it wouldn't be weird or anything. I don't go to dances."

"Are you sure?"

_Damm. In Phoenix, they were fine if you just said no. Here, you need a legitimate excuse?_ "I've got plans to go to Seattle that Saturday."

At that point, Mike walked into the cafeteria, and I was spared further interrogation. Jessica brushed me off and went to chat it up with him, which didn't bother me at all. However, after a few words exchanged, she started to look really depressed, then sat at the other end of the table. She didn't say another word for the rest of lunch.

I considered asking Mike and going with him just to make her mad at me and keep her silent, but I decided it was more trouble than it was worth. Really, Mike would be way more annoying than seeing the look on her face, and it would be harder to turn him down in the future.

Biology was next, I sat down at my desk and proceeded to try to ignore everyone. Mike came over to talk to me.

"So, um, Jessica Stanley asked me out to the dance."

"Tell me something I don't know," I groaned. This was why I didn't go to dances—way to much drama, and they weren't even that enjoyable. Seriously, I really appreciated the way Edward never said anything to me anymore. Perhaps he was mad at me for slamming him into the wall with a crystal.

I imagined slamming every member of this school into a wall with a crystal, and then having some blessed silence around here. That put me in a slightly better mood.

"I told her I'd have to think about it."

"Really? Teenage boys can think? Now that, I didn't know. Good job, you've impressed me."

Mike plowed right on. "I was wondering if you would want to ask me."

I came so close to blasting him against a wall, only the knowledge that regular kids would probably not react like Edward Cullen (I could just imagine the screams, the "call 911"'s, the "help! She's an alien!" I did not need that nightmare.)

"You know, Mike, if I wanted to ask you, I would have." He was silent. I guess I hurt his feelings. Poor baby. "Look, go with Jessica. It'll make her happy."

"What about you?"

"I don't dance. What's the point? It starts out fairly bearable, then someone brings in illegal alcohol, then everyone does stupid things and wakes up with a headache the next morning. Not my idea of fun. Plus, I'm out of town for the weekend. I'm driving down to Seattle. Now, are you going to stand here all of Biology, or do you have your own desk?" He shut up and went back to his seat. I thought I heard Edward chuckle, and almost turned to look at him, but then I remembered I didn't care.

Finally, the bell rang, and I gathered up my stuff to leave.

"Cy?"

Wait, so now he's just talking to me again? I whirled, glaring. "Cyclonis. If you remember correctly, only people I _like_ are allowed to call me nicknames."

Okay, perhaps a bit too harsh, but everyone at this high school was spineless. I hoped that Edward had the wits and brain to exchange banter with me, because really, I was tired of not having anyone to practice sarcasm. Additionally, he had been quite rude to me recently, so he deserved it.

"Good," he replied, although he was frowning. "Look, I'm sorry if I'm being rude to you, but it's just better if we're not friends."

I couldn't help it. In the absurdity of his statement, I laughed.

"What?" he grinned crookedly.

"You sound like some lame preschooler. Let's be friends. Let's not be friends. I want to talk to you. I'm going to save you from a truck. Now I'm going to ignore you. Are you bipolar or something?"

Then, of course, he sat back and stared off into the distance. I could have sworn I heard him mumble, "Or something."

This guy was hopeless, and absolute waste of time.

_But a far more interesting waste of time than all the other guys in this dump. Not to mention hot…_

I would have told myself to shut up, but that would merit talking to myself, and I'm not that insane. Yet.

Gym class was actually a welcome relief. Once I had gotten over the fact that I was not, and was never going to be, athletic, I decided to play the other extreme: so clumsy I was nearly dangerous. Of course, it was all just acting, but it became a habit of mine to try to injure as many people as possible while making it look like an accident. Nasty, mean, and unfair sabotage, but it kept me amused.

Today, I managed to give a teammate a nosebleed while passing to ball a bit overenthusiastically, calculated the angles of my shots in such a way that the three times I did throw the ball near the basket it bounced off the backboard and hit someone's head, and my personal favorite, tripped on someone while they were guarding me and slammed them into the floor. I landed on top of him, and he was rather chubby, too, so I walked away unscathed.

I was starting to like PE class.

Of course, I should have realized it was too good to last. As I was walking out the door, hurrying to my loathed truck, Eric the Chess Geek fell in step.

"So, Cyclonis, want to go to the spring dance with me?"

I gave him a long, hard look, remaining completely silent, until he got too uncomfortable to take it any longer. "Is there a problem?"

I sneered at him (not in a mean way, of course—he was one of my 'friends'). "Nothing. I'm trying to determine if you underwent a gender change and you're now female, or if you're just exceptionally unobservant and you've failed to realize that it's the girl's choice." See? I can be nice. I called him 'unobservant,' instead of perhaps more fitting adjectives like 'absolute moron' or 'total idiot.'

"Well…um…"

"Look, Eric, I haven't asked you because I haven't asked anyone. I'm out of town that weekend." His face fell a bit. "You know, why don't you ask Angela? She's really nice, and she seems to like you."

His face brightened. "You think?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to open my mouth without letting out some sort of retort like, 'Yes, I think, unlike most of the people here in this school.' However, I was not happy with the way things were going. First Jessica and Mike, now Eric and Angela? Who did these people think I was, their matchmaker?

I got into my truck, grumbling about how annoying high school was, and how these dances were far more trouble than they were ever really worth. Of course, Edward chose that moment to walk past me, chuckling at me again.

That boy infuriated me. He had the audacity to laugh? At me? In public?

Then, I realized that I had practically been laughing about the same thing, until he came along.

So now I was furious at him for making me furious. And, the sheer insanity of the whole situation made me giggle.

Wow. Pathetic. I couldn't even stay mad at him for a minute.

I turned the engine on in my way-too-loud truck, and backed out (albeit carefully) into the lane, only to slam on the brake when Edward and his silver Volvo swerved in front of me. Then, of course, he decided to stop and wait for his siblings to walk over from all the way in the cafeteria.

I turned my engine off, hoping futilely that my ears might still not be permanently damaged. Behind me, a line of cars was already forming, first of which happened to be Tyler in his new Sentra.

So I guess kids are insanely rich in small towns, too. Seriously, trash one car, buy a new one.

I sighed and closed my eyes, trying not to get a migraine. What I really needed was to sit down and meditate...

_Bang, Bang!_

I glanced over. Tyler had gotten out of his car and was smashing on my passenger window. Sighing, I leaned over and cranked it half open. "Look, I'm stuck behind Cullen," I explained curtly.

"I know," he grinned. "I've come to ask you something else while we're trapped here."

This was not happening. Seriously, I would prefer to tutor kindergarteners (who got on my nerves—who like little kids? They're just stupid, not cute) than be asked to the spring dance again.

"Will you ask me to go to the spring dance with you?"

I sighed. My quota of patience for the day had been used up before Mike asked me, so he was going to get the flames. "Well, I have to commend you, you've figured out that I'm the girl and you're the boy." Tyler just looked confused, but in front of me, Edward burst out laughing.

I was going to thoroughly scour my truck for any sort of microphone/listening device. All my clothes, too. I was not sure how he managed to hear everything I said, but I certainly wasn't going to let such invasion of my privacy continue.

"Tyler, I will not ask you to go to the dance with me. I will not ask anyone to go to the dance with me, because I am going to Seattle. Now, I absolutely need your opinion—do you think I should make flyers informing the entire school about my trip, or should I just hope that the rest of the boy population is too intimidated by me to approach me?"

"Mike said you weren't going to be in town."

"Then why—" I snapped.

"I was hoping you were letting him down easy."

"I don't let people down easy," I growled. "It's not my personality type. I prefer to do it in the most degrading way possible. But I really am going out of town."

"You know, your sarcasm is witty and hilarious—"

"—just not when it's directed at you," I finished. "I know. Just leave now, Tyler, while you still have some shreds of dignity left."

He shrugged. "There's still prom."

I nodded. "I was hoping that the world would end with some nuclear disaster before that came along, but there's always a chance. But get it through your head now, I'll make plans for that weekend to so I can avoid the monotony and humiliation of putting on a _dress_ and _dancing_."

At that moment, Cullen started driving away, so I turned the keys again and sped away. Good riddance.

When I got home, I sat down and meditated, and was in a far better mood. I even considered cooking dinner, as a one-time thing only. I used my crystals around the kitchen to keep my hands clean, simmering onions and peppers while the chicken cooked in the oven.

The phone rang. Great, I couldn't get any peace, not even when doing a nice deed. Well, sort of nice. It had an ulterior motive—I was tired of eating microwave dinners, or cold salads I bought from the local Whole Foods.

It was Jessica. Of course, I was in for another long, pointless, headache-causing conversation. I wondered if she would notice if I only said "Uh-Huh," and I decided to test this hypothesis out.

"Hey, Cy!"

"Uh-huh."

"Guess what?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Mike's going with me!"

"Uh-huh."

"That's not weird, is it?"

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah, I totally agree with you."

"Uh-huh."

"So, we, like, have to go shopping together!"

"Uh-huh."

"Port Angeles. Next Saturday. Promise me you'll come with!"

"Uh-huh."

"Cool! Okay, I have to go, tell everyone else the good news!"

"Uh-huh."

That wasn't too bad. I would have to try it with her in my everyday lunchtime conversations.

I did notice that she invited me to Port Angeles, which was a welcome surprise. I needed to go book-shopping, and a girls' night out should keep Chief Swan off my back in the area of socializing.

I mentally shrugged, and returned to the task of preparing an edible dinner.

When Charlie finally got home, he seemed a bit nervous seeing me in the kitchen (of course, I had put my crystals away), but I assured him I was not going to blow anything up, so he left me alone to watch TV.

During dinner, the food was good enough to merit no conversation, so we just sat there and ate. When he was nearly finished, I decided to inform him of my getting-out-of-dance-Seattle plans. "Chief Swan?"

"Hm?" His mouth was full, so he just made a sort of a grunting noise.

"I'm going to Seattle a week from Saturday."

"Why?" he sounded legitimately surprised.

"I need to buy some books, do some shopping…" I trailed off. What else did teenager do when they went to the cities? "Maybe watch a movie." I hated movies. Oh, well, it was just an excuse, I didn't really have to.

"That truck probably doesn't get too great mileage."

I was designing a new engine system using crystals, so I wouldn't have to use gas. It was nearly done, I'd install it this weekend—but Charlie didn't need to know that. I decided to answer with the generic response, "Uh-huh."

"Are you going by yourself?"

"Why?" I shot back. "Worried about me or about me having a secret boyfriend?"

Oops. Not supposed to use sarcasm on the legal guardian. "Kidding, Chief. It's just me."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"Um…" What did all guys hate doing? Clothes shopping, I decided. "Nah. I'll probably just be in dressing rooms all day. My non-existent secret boyfriend would dump me out of boredom if I brought him along. You certainly shouldn't have to endure it." He nodded, and the discussion was over.

The next morning, when I pulled into the parking lot—as far away from the silver Volvo as possible—I fumbled with the key, and it dropped into a puddle. I leaned over to pick it up, but before I could, a white hand flashed out and snatched it. I jerked upright. Edward Cullen was right next to me, leaning on the door of my car.

I teetered between irritation at him and curiosity about his physical prowess, and curiosity won out. Breaking my decision not to speak to him, I gushed, "So, how did you _do_ that?"

"Do what?" He held out my key as he spoke. As I reached for it, he dropped it onto the palm of my hand.

"Appear out of thin air."

"Cyclonis, it is not my fault that you are incredibly unobservant."

I scowled. "I am not unobservant. You simply don't make any noise when you move, you have super-speed, or so it seems, which you've also refused to explain to me…" I trailed off, noticing how upset he seemed to be getting. "Okay, I'll change the subject, but only this once. How about we discuss the traffic jam last night?"

"Yes?"

"You know, I really preferred it when you were pretending I didn't exist. It was far less irritating."

He snickered. "That was for Tyler's sake, not mine. I had to give him his chance."

"You…" Then I remembered I had chosen not to use vulgar language and other obscenities.

"And I'm not pretending you don't exist."

"So you're trying to irritate me to death? Because Tyler's van didn't do the job?"

Anger flashed in his tawny eyes, and his lips pressed together. "Now you're being absurd."

I glared at him. "You know what, Edward? Unlike every other girl and quite a few boys in this school, I don't worship your face. So if you want to continue insulting me and my intelligence, I'm not going to waste my time. See you in Biology." I turned on my heel, and began storming away.

"Wait," he called. I ignored him. He started following me, easily keeping up despite my head start. "Look, I'm sorry if I'm being rude."

"Why won't you leave me alone?" I demanded.

"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me," he chuckled. Suddenly, he was in good humor again. I put my hands on my hips and tapped one foot, waiting for him to continue. "I was wondering if, a week from Saturday, you know, the day of the spring dance—"

"Are you trying to be funny?" I groaned. "Because humor that involves making others upset is only okay when _I_ do it."

His eyes were wickedly amused. "Will you please allow me to finish?"

I glared. "If it involved the spring dance at all, then no. I'm going—"

"I heard you were going to Seattle that day, and I wanted to offer you a ride."

Unexpected. "You're offering to drive me to Seattle, put up with whatever I want to do there, even if it's shopping all day, and drive me back?" Please, shopping trick, don't fail me now. It would have frightened off the imaginary non-existent boyfriend, please may it work on—

"I never saw you as the clothes shopping sort of girl. Actually, that sounds kind of fun, it would be hilarious watching you verbally degrade random strangers in the dressing room." Damm. He was too smart, or he knew me too well.

"Why are you offering this?"

"I was planning to go down anyways, and I'm not sure if your truck can make it."

My truck. He just reminded me how much I hate it. The thought of driving for hours with its roar in my ears made my skin crawl. "Sure, I'll take your ride, just don't be annoying. You know, I really did prefer it when you didn't want to be friends." Despite the severity of my tone, I couldn't keep a grin off of my face.

"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, sorry, thanks for clearing it up. You know, Edward, at one point it was my goal to understand you, but I'm starting to realize I might not _want_ to know what's going on inside your head." Leaving him standing there, I walked away, to my first class.

Somehow, I was still in a slightly bad mood, so I almost felt pity for the poor teacher who had me. Almost.

* * *

That was fun. Seriously. I enjoyed writing all the nasty, sarcastic things that sometimes I wish to say to people in real life but can't because _I'm_ not allowing to be evil. *sigh* At least I've got my little brothers to practice on, or I would have completely lost all my ability at sarcasm.

Hey, you know, a few reviews would be appreciated, let me know how I'm doing and all. Please?


	6. Blood Type

Author's Note: I'm going to make the note a bit longer this time. Why? Because I feel like it, okay! If you don't like reading boring author's notes, then just skip it. See if I care.

Do I really have to go over the list of things I don't own? Twilight, Storm Hawks, my little brothers (although I wish the last weren't true, then I could make them my personal slaves, Mwahahahaha). This is the disclaimer. Now it is done. Continuing with my longer-than-usual-but-still-reasonable-in-length author's note.

I have been thanking my reviews (I mean, who doesn't? Reviewers are awesome!), but I really want to take some time to let you know how much they mean to me. (Yeah, right. Nothing's going to stop me from writing this story. I write for the fun of it, not for reviews. That doesn't mean I don't like reviews!) So, I'd like to do a mini review corner here, in which I get to tell the people who reviewed how awesome they are, and the people too lazy to review get to be all 'Aw, man' and skip over and begin reading the story.

Helliexx: If there is one person who reviews all of my stories…well, let me put it this way—you have no idea how grateful I am. Thank you so much!

Smileyfacer: I'm glad you like it so much! In my opinion, the Bella in the book is nasty, selfish, and manipulative, but she tries to be nice. Really, sometimes she just nauseates me, especially the nasty way she pushed Jacob away when Edward comes back. I don't even like Jacob that much, but I certainly feel bad for him for being strung along. I personally think Cyclonis does a better job, because she may be just as nasty as Bella, but she knows she is, and she's a lot more honest about it. The way Bella in the book drools over Edward? It's truly sickening. She's such a bad role model for women. *sigh* Now that my rant is done (who am I kidding? I haven't even begun ranting yet) I'd like to thank you for your wonderful review. I am really glad that you're enjoying my twist on this story.

Missy-Dedocakes: I'd like to give you a _giant_ thank you for your reviews. It meant so much to me, especially the way you pointed out the particular parts you liked. Truly, I felt that not only did you tell me what you thought, but your feedback will help me become a better writer. I am so grateful for your reviews. Thank you so much! I'm really glad that you enjoy the story, and hearing your comments always make my day brighter. ;-)

**YOU: **Yes, you, the ghost-reader, the lazy person who is reading this chapter and isn't going to review at all. I allow anonymous reviews, so I don't care whether or not you have an account or if you remembered to sign in today. Just review! You don't even have to say anything, 'hi' is fine, I'd just like to know that you're reading and maybe one word what you think. Is that too much to ask?

* * *

First class happened to be English. Which meant Mr. Mason got to be my punching bag.

Teasing teachers is a lot more fun than bullying other kids. For one, you have to be smart about it, because if you go out of line, they can get you in trouble easily. To tease a teacher, you need to hide your comments well enough so they know exactly what you mean, but can't punish you without seeming unfair.

"Thank you for joining us, Miss Cyclonis," Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone.

"For what? Breakfast club?" I replied politely. "I'm not late. The bell is ringing right…" I glanced at my watch. "…now."

_Brrrrrriiinnnnnngggggggg!_

"Although the three walking in the door right now technically are late. Will you greet them with such sincerity as you have me?" The class all laughed, and Mr. Mason flushed red.

"So, um, get out your homework," he mumbled.

I raised my hand. He glanced at me, then grimaced, but everyone waited on him to call on me. Finally, he did. "What homework?"

A few people scoffed. I might have been insufferably rude when I was in the mood, but I was never a slacker.

Mr. Mason's eyes narrowed. Give me a homework slip? It seemed like a dream come true for him. He was waiting for the catch, then went to gleefully proclaim, "Reading chapters 13 and 14 and writing a one-page essay on the theme. I announced it in class, and it was written on the board. Now, do you want to come get a homework slip for missing work…"

He trailed off as I pulled out a _two_ page essay, because I'm just an overachiever like that. "No, I'm referring to the fact that the latter aspect of the compound word 'homework' is work, and the stuff that you assigned us certainly was not work. There was absolutely no originality or thinking required; the stated the theme for you on page 97. In fact, it was so easy that I practically did it in my sleep." Not a lie—I had sleepwalked, sleeptalked, sleepsung, sleep-played-the-piano before; I wouldn't be surprised if I sleep-did-brainless-homework.

He opened his mouth like he was considering berating me, then thought better, and closed it. I sighed, then smiled contently. One and a half months here, and I already had the teachers well-trained.

When class ended, both Mike and Eric decided to escort me to the next one. Mike was prattling on about this beach trip he was planning for the weekend. Apparently, I was going, too, although I hadn't really been informed. I tried to sound fairly eager, and reminded myself that Social Services and my adoptive father, Chief Swan, wanted to see me socializing and being a normal high school girl.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur, which was a welcome relief, because already I was tired of the things these kids called classes.

For some strange reason, I was impatient (at least, more impatient than usual) when Jessica and I entered the cafeteria. I was curious—was Edward having another one of his weird mood swings, or was he back to the cold, indifferent person that I could tolerate? Jessica babbled about her dress shopping plans, and I tuned her out expertly.

I glanced towards the Cullens' table, and was slightly disappointed to notice that there were only four of them. It made little sense. Based on the behavior patterns that I observed, all of them sat at the same table every day, yet at the same time, why would Edward randomly ditch, especially after being here this morning?

"Edward Cullen is staring at you again," Jessica stated, catching my attention. "I wonder why he's sitting alone today?"

I followed her gaze, and sure enough, there was Edward, smiling crookedly, staring at me from an empty table across the cafeteria from where he usually sat. Once he'd caught my eye, he motioned with his right index finger for me to join him. Then, to my disbelief, he had the audacity to _wink_ at me.

"Does he mean _you_?" Jessica asked with such astonishment it bordered on insulting.

"No, I think he's paging my imaginary friend," I retorted. "Who else? I'm his Biology partner. I bet he wants help on his homework or something." With that parting line, I sauntered away, ignoring the feeling of her stare burning holes in my back.

When I reached his table, I unloaded my backpack off the shoulder. I was already halfway into the chair when he invited me, "Why don't you sit down with me today?"

My cheeks flushed a delicate pink. Although, I had to give him credit—by officially inviting me to sit with him, he both made it clear that the power here was his, and made me feel rather rude for sitting down without being invited.

Then, I realized I was overanalyzing everything.

An awkward silence stretched between us, which I didn't mind at all. I proceeded to ignore him, and start on my lunch. Finally, I glanced up, and saw that Edward looked a lot more uncomfortable with not talking than I was. I decided to make it easy on him, open up the conversation. "So, this is different."

"Well," he paused, then the rest of the words came out in a rush. "I decided that as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."

I glared at him again, my irritation evident in my expression. "Are you referring to the fact that you believe I'm evil enough to corrupt you, or are you worried about getting in trouble by being with me and have decided that you might as well go all-out?"

He flashed a smile. "Yeah. Well, the second part at least."

I snorted. "Okay, onto the next mysterious, lame statement with a cryptic undertone designed specifically to keep me up at night wondering. Which they kind of fail at doing, because I'm a heavy sleeper."

He glanced around. "Well, um, your friends look rather mad at me for stealing you."

Rolling my eyes, I replied, "Yeah, right. Well, my male friends might hate you, but I think my female friends are forever in your debt for giving them something to gossip about besides what dress they want to wear to the spring dance. Trust me, they'll survive without me."

"I might not give you back, though." His eyes glinted wickedly.

I felt fury rising in me, making my stomach burn. "No, Edward, you will not be 'giving me back,'" I spat. "To give me back, you have to own me in the first place. I am an independent woman. If I return to their table, it will be on my own terms."

He chuckled. "Someone has a temper."

"Get used to it."

"Oh, I plan to." My eyes widened, surprised. Was that the most pathetic pickup line ever, or had I been hearing hidden meanings that weren't really there?

"What brought this on?" I asked carefully.

"I told you—I got tired of trying to stay away from you, so I'm giving up." He was still smiling, but his eyes conveyed far more serious emotions.

"Edward, you were the one boy at this school who does not annoy me to the brink of insanity," I replied. "In addition, I did not begin to hate you once you opened your mouth. Sometimes, you actually have something worth listening to, to say. However, I'm tired of your weird statements which make absolutely no sense and have contradictory meanings. In plain, pre-schooler English: are we friends now?"

"Friends…" he mused, dubious.

"Acquaintances, companions, peers, however you wish to put it. Or will you go back to not talking to me, please? One or the other. I can't stand your weird, in-the-middle actions."

He grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I might not be a good friend for you."

I shrugged. "You say that a lot. Besides, I'll be the judge of what is or is not good for me."

His golden eyes smoldered, intense. "It's because you don't listen to me. If you were smart, you'd stay away from me."

I returned his gaze, retorting, "If you were smart, you'd stop trying to boss me around."

He smiled apologetically, and I turned back to my lunch. On the one hand, I missed the silent Edward who didn't bug me, but on the other, I was enjoying our verbal sparring matches immensely. It was a marvelous change from the normal high schooler's conversation, which I had discovered were no different if the only response was "Uh-huh."

"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.

"Cogito, ergo sum. I think, therefore I am. Do you really think I'm going to blurt out my innermost identity by giving you access to my secret thoughts?"

Edward looked nearly sheepish. "Um, yes?"

I sighed. Flashing back to our previous conversation, he seemed pretty upset every time I brought up his super-powers. "I'm trying to figure out who—or what—you are. Care giving me a DNA sample, and making my life a lot easier?"

He shook his head, grinning, but I could see by the way his eyes narrowed slightly and his forehead crinkled that he was paying far more attention. "I'm more intrigued about how much luck you're having on your own."

I sighed, loud and fake. "Not much, you haven't been giving me much to go off of."

"Any theories?"

"A theory is a compilation of proven hypotheses that have been supported with repeated testing. I can't even make a hypothesis with the limited data you have provided. At best, I can make an educated guess, and even then it wouldn't be that educated. And even that, I'm not telling." I felt the childish urge to stick my tongue out at him, which I repressed.

His golden eyes narrowed. "You know, this is _really_ frustrating," he complained.

"No, I don't see why it would be frustrating at all," I spat, getting out all my pent-up annoyance. "You not only defy the laws of physics, you defy the laws of how teenage high school boys act, according to moi. You've done a wide range of bizarre things, from saving my life under impossible circumstances one day to treating me like a pariah the next, and again, with no reasonable explanation. _You_ are not the one allowed to be frustrated, okay?"

"So you admit that I saved your life?"

"That's beyond the point!"

We glared at each other, then suddenly, he broke off, staring over my shoulder. To my surprise and amusement, he began to grin. "Your boyfriend is quite mad at me. He's wondering if I'm being unpleasant to you, and is contemplating coming over and breaking us up."

"Don't think you can distract me," I snapped. Then, of course, I had to ask, "But who are you talking about? I don't have a boyfriend." I glanced over my shoulder to see Mike glaring at the pair of us. "Oh. Yeah, definitely _not_ that brainless drone. But tell me, what gave you that idea?"

He smiled, glad that my annoyance was directed at someone else for a change. "Most people are easy for me to read."

"Everyone but me. Yeah, we've been through this before."

His mood shifted abruptly, his eyes turning brooding. "Yes, everyone except for you. I wonder why."

I looked at my food and decided that I definitely was going to pack a lunch for tomorrow, because this cafeteria stuff was complete junk. I pushed my plate away from me slightly, wincing.

"You're not hungry?"

"No, I am absolutely starving, and that is why I'm pushing the plate away from me." He looked at me blankly, and I sighed. "No, I'm not hungry. What about you? Aren't you hungry?"

"No, I'm not hungry either." His expression was one of morbid amusement, like he was enjoying some inside jokes. I'm fine with inside jokes, as long as I'm on the _inside_ of them. Otherwise, I completely and utterly loathe them.

I wondered briefly why I was spending so much time with Cullen, if he made me this mad. Then I decided I sort of liked being mad, it made things fun.

"Could you do me a favor?" I asked, after a second's hesitation.

He was suddenly wary. "That depends on what the favor is."

"Actually, I don't have one in mind right now," I admitted. "I was trying to see if you would give me a blank check. Still, I think I'll save the favor for later."

"That sounds fair, may I have one thing in return?"

I grinned viciously. "Depends on what that one thing is."

"A theory."

"Evolution, the Big Bang, relativity—"

"Fine, a not-very-educated guess."

"Black holes do not exist because they are a mathematical improbability, there are no infinities in our universe—"

Now his voice was a little bit annoyed. "About me."

"Didn't I already tell you? Bipolar, weirdo, multiple personality disorder—"

"I mean what you thought about…you know…the van…and my…"

I laughed. "Will you stop interrupting me?"

He glared; I don't think he was finding this as amusing as I was. "Will you stop answering the wrong question?"

"Touché. Although, the way you phrased it, technically they weren't the wrong questions." I played with the cap of my water bottle, letting him squirm a bit, before beginning, "Well, I've considered bitten by radioactive spiders."

"That's not very creative," he scoffed. He almost looked a bit relieved beneath his swagger.

"Don't you dare insult the spider-monkey theory! I do not look in comic books for inspiration. My father and I created a serum that was supposed to create a super-soldier, which has absolutely nothing to do with my non-existent plans for world domination, and it was basically a radioactive venom. It worked, too—the guy went super-strong, super-fast, and indestructible for about three hours, then he died. We saw why—the mutagens in his bloodstream were actually producing extra chromosomes, and the stress on his cells was too much. Father figured if we had given him blood transfusions, we could have prolonged his life-span, but without them, it was only three hours."

Edward looked very, very nervous. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but there are no radioactive spiders." He forced a laugh. "No kryptonite, either."

"Don't you dare put down radioactive crystals. Or was one slam into the wall not enough for you?" He winced at the memory.

I sighed. "I'll figure it out eventually," I continued.

"I wish you wouldn't try." His tone was dark, serious again.

"Give me one good reason."

"What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?" He smiled playfully, but his eyes were impenetrable.

"Well, I'd have to say I'm very sorry," I replied, keeping my eyes glued to his face. His expression didn't disappoint: his eyes fell, and his mouth twisted up in a self-deprecating smirk. "In the oncoming world order of Cyclonia, lead by your truly, the role of 'Tyrant, Dictator, or Da Big Boss' has already been claimed. By Moi. However, I still am looking for evil henchman. The Dark Side is always hiring, and you know what they say about cookies isn't all rumors." His mouth fell open, like a capitol O, and his eyes went all wide. I smirked, continuing. "You know, really, this is the best news I've heard in a while. We can get together and drink tea and exchange world domination plans…" I trailed off, glancing up expectantly.

He finally recovered enough to speak. "You're not kidding, are you?"

"No, nope, no way, nada." I flashed him a smile. "You know, _you_ better not be kidding, because that's called stringing a girl along and I _will_ extract nasty revenge."

The bell rang, cutting off his reply, and I stood abruptly. "You coming? Or are you determined to be late?"

"I'm not going to class today." Somehow, he had managed to steal the lid of my water-bottle, and was now twirling it. Jerk. He better recycle.

"Explain."

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then."

"You know something I don't."

"So?"

"I don't like it."

"How did you put it? The bell rang, are _you_ determined to be late?"

I wanted to tell him that I was ditching, too, but knowing my previous records for ditching for days to participate in complex experiments, Chief Swan probably wouldn't take it so nicely. I would have to go to class. Then, I realized I was just standing there sputtering at him. I pivoted on one heel, then stormed out, leaving him sitting there, that annoying smile covering his face.

Time for Biology, or should I say bore-ology. Considering the amount that my knowledge had increased from information I had gathered in that class, I concluded that the latter would be a more appropriate name. I slid into my seat a few moments after the bell had rang, but lucky me, the teacher was even later than I was.

Mr. Banner came into the room, calling class to order. He seemed slightly out of breath and was balancing far to many cardboard boxes in his stubby arms. He plopped them all down on Mike's table, so roughly that one nearly capsized, and enlisted the boy to help his pass them around to everyone in the room.

"One piece from each box," he instructed, snapping on white gloves. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Maybe it looked cool in movies, but in actual labs, you never snapped your gloves. Never. There were too many substances that you didn't want to fling or hit…it just gave me a bad feeling.

"Indicator card, four-pronged applicator, and micro-lancer," he explained, holding all of them up in turn. Instantly, my visceral feelings of dread found an intellectual base: there was a good chance that he had been doing blood-typing with all of his classes, and due to the funding of this school, 'sterile' meant 'run them under water in the men's restroom.' I felt nauseated at the thought of pricking myself with such an unsanitary tool.

He started at Mike's table, carefully putting one drop of water on all the squares, then grabbing Mike's hand and jabbing the spike in. I felt my stomach heave again, and I was completely thankful to Edward Cullen for making me too annoyed to eat lunch. Because if I had eaten…

"Mr. Banner, I already know my blood type," I said, trying to sound superior. I failed miserably, only giving a sick, weak impression. It also didn't help that I had begun to hyperventilate.

He sighed, then called, "Will someone take Miss Cyclonis to the nurse?"

I was too upset about the unsanitary lab equipment surrounding me to bother getting mad at him for messing up my name, again. Most of the teachers got it right, but some still stubbornly refused to call me my last name without adding the title 'Miss.'

Mike volunteered. Surprise, surprise. This guy just couldn't take a hint. I wondered if I threw up on him, would he stop trying to hit on me?

The boy offered me his shoulder to lean on, and even in my state, I managed to give him a look of loathing and disgust my father would have been proud of. Then, with as much dignity as I could muster, I stood on my own and walked out. He followed behind, tagging like a sad puppy-dog. (Seriously, what is with this boy and puppy dogs? Didn't he get the memo—I'm a cat person.) It took all my self-restraint not to sprint away from the scientists' nightmare of high school students, blood, and dirty, contaminated tools.

When we got out of the range of vision of the classroom, I stopped, sinking down the wall of lockers to a seated position of the floor. Mike plopped down next to me.

"You okay?"

"Fine, just need some air, keep that hand in your pocket!" I put my forehead in my hands, inhaling deeply, taking in the chill, crisp air.

"Cyclonis?" This was a different voice, from a bit of a distance. It was a low, velvety voice. A familiar voice. As in _his_ voice.

I bit back a groan. Seriously, he had the worst timing. Of all the people I didn't want to see me weak, the only person who topped Edward Cullen was my father. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing to disappear; it was an illogical response, but given my current nauseated, sickened condition, it was one to be expected.

Mike seemed stressed, his voice filled with tension. "I think she fainted. I'm not really sure why, she didn't even stick her finger."

Suddenly, I was no longer on the ground. "Cy? Can you hear me?"

I opened my eyes and snapped back weakly, "What do _you_ think?"

"I'll take her to the nurse. You can go back to class now." He began walking forward, ignoring Mike's protests until the idiot boy shut up. It took me a few seconds to get used to the rocking feel of being carried, then I realized I sort of liked it. There was a soothing, calming aspect to the motions. Suddenly, I didn't feel like I was about to die. My breathing returned closer to normal.

"So, you faint at the sight of blood?" I looked up, slightly surprised he was speaking to me.

"No," I replied. "I find it repulsive to give insane high school students contaminated laboratory equipment, and then tell them to prick their fingers. It doesn't help that I was raised in a very…strict, ordered environment, especially when it came to laboratory hygiene."

"So…how would you put it, in simple, pre-schooler English? You don't faint at the sight of blood, you faint because of your paranoia of contamination?" He seemed highly amused, especially when it brought a chuckle out of me, too.

"You know, Edward, I find it quite hilarious when you can't think of a witty enough comeback of your own so you have to use one of mine." He continued chucking, though, his good mood refusing to be dampened.

As he got me to the front office, there were a chorus of "Oh, dears," first from the receptionist then the nurse. Nursey made me sit down with an ice pack, and Edward got me excused from my next class, Gym. It wasn't three minutes before someone else came limping into the sick room, also helped by Mike (which made me wonder if he was just interested in getting out of class after all), and I was let go.

I decided to make conversation as we walked along the buildings, the only students outside. It was a strange feel, like the whole place was deserted, but at the same time so alive.

"So, do you also faint at the sight of blood?"

Edward grimaced. "No."

"Then why ditch? Obviously, the blood typing was the something you knew which I didn't."

He was silent. "Okay, maybe I do. Just don't tell anyone."

I gazed at him carefully, taking in his posture, expression, and tone of voice. It was all perfect, too perfect. "I think you're lying. Your first answer was closer to the truth. I _will_ figure you out, Edward." I turned, breaking off from him and heading towards my car.

His hand was on my shoulder in an instant. "Where do you think you're going?"

I flashed him a sneer. "Do you see any other ugly red trucks in the parking lot?"

"I said I would get you home safe, and I will. You're in no condition to drive."

I glared at him. Seriously, I was getting to be an expert at glaring because of the way he could so easily annoy me. "So, what? You want me to walk? You know, you're in no condition to order me around."

He grabbed my arm lightly, but dragged me with an iron grip towards his silver Volvo. After a few stumbling steps, I realized where he was taking me, and complied. When we finally reached the passenger door, he opened it for me, waiting.

"You are so _pushy_," I huffed.

"It's open."

I didn't move.

"You know, you'll make but three steps before I catch you, so don't even think of making a run for it."

"I wasn't," I leered. "I was contemplating which I disliked more: hearing the roar of my engine deafen me or the humiliation of backing down, on this issue at least."

His grin widened. "Get in, Cy."

I was about to correct him on the usage of my nickname, then I realized that we were 'friends' now, so he was allowed to called me that. Holding my head high, I slid into the seat, waiting for something else to further my embarrassment.

"So, you don't like your truck? You know, I wouldn't mind picking you up for school every morning."

"I prefer my independence more than I detest my truck, but give it a few weeks, and I'll probably be begging you."

He nodded, turning up the heater. As he started up the engine, the stereo turned on, playing a certain piano piece that I knew.

"Claire de Lune?"

"You know Debussy?"

"No, it was a random guess. Of course I do, I was forced to learn to play this song on the piano." Before he could ask, I continued, "My father made me take lessons from age three to five, he thought that it would give my fingers more precision in the laboratory."

He nodded, relaxing a bit. I closed my eyes and let the music wash over me.

Of course, the peace couldn't last. Not with Edward Cullen in the car. "So, I've heard a bit about your father, but what was your mother like?"

"I don't know," I replied shortly. "She died giving birth to me. A burden I've lived with my entire life."

He turned to face me, making me wonder how much safer it was to drive with him, asking, "How old are you, Cy?"

"Seventeen."

"You don't seem seventeen."

"Neither do you." He grimaced, and I almost felt bad for him. I guess extra maturity was another one of the strange, unexplained phenomena surrounding him?

"So you lived with your father?"

"Yes."

"What was he like?"

"Why are you asking me all these questions?" Edward was silent. "He's an absolute genius, very strict, but quite brilliant. I miss him a lot. I guess I was the only person who really understood him, and I worry about him sometimes. How he's getting along."

Edward nodded.

"So, are you going to tell me about your family?"

"What do you want to know?" he replied. His expression was guarded, and I knew the answers I received would be carefully worded as to not give anything away.

"The Cullens adopted you?"

"Yes."

"What about your real parents?"

"They died a long time ago."

I felt sorry for him—I knew what it was like to lack a parent. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

His eyes widened in sympathy. "Don't be," he assured me. "I don't remember that that clearly, and Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now."

"And you love them?"

"Absolutely. I couldn't imagine too better people."

Jealousy twisted in my gut. Rich, educated parents, siblings, the perfect family…what wasn't there to envy? My childhood had been bleak, and nonexistent; I was expected to behave as an adult since well before I had reached double digits. Although I knew it was such a gift to have received such higher learning, I still sometimes wished for the simpler pleasures of life.

A small change in the subject was needed. "What about your brothers and sisters?"

"My brothers and sisters will be highly annoyed with me if they are forced to wait in the rain."

I gave a small start, realizing we had reached Chief Swan's house. It wasn't like me to be so unobservant.

I got out of the car, into the cool, clean air, and couldn't help but smile. Really, the weather over here might be the only thing I did truly like.

"Cy? Will you promise me one thing?" His voice, his eyes, his entire expression was tense.

"Yes?"

"Be careful this weekend." Then he drove away, leaving me to wonder what was so dangerous about the beaches at La Push.

* * *

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End file.
